


Resistance

by Blackbird Song (Blackbird_Song)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Episode Related, Introspection, Missing Scene, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackbird_Song/pseuds/Blackbird%20Song
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack hates weddings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resistance

**Author's Note:**

> This was started ages and ages ago as a companion piece to [Acceptance](http://blackbird-song.livejournal.com/92859.html), which was my first ever Torchwood fic. It's been edited and altered for purposes of finishing and posting, but with one small exception, I tried to stay true to what I knew about them and the way I read the emotions in the episode at the time. Many thanks to my husband for the beta.

I can't die, no matter how many vows of "'til death do us part" I hear. Or say. And I can't have her, no matter how much I want or need her, or want to be inside her the way she is inside me. Like air, light, _life_, she is elemental and I'm a force of … Fact. I'm a Fact, the Doctor said. An unnatural thing. I need her to remain natural. I need her so _I_ can be natural again. I love her.

She's infatuated with me. I've seen it thousands of times, through thousands of times. She's looking at me with those huge eyes, giving me her all.

I tell her everything good about Rhys. Rhys is wonderful. Rhys is another one I can't have. I meant it when I told her to give him my love. I can't have him because he's terminally heterosexual – or thinks he is – and he's hers. He's good for her, and even if he were interested, in this century it would ruin what I so desperately want for her – for all of us. I'm losing myself in her. She's so beautiful, so _alive_. I can't bear to lose her. I—

—become aware of you. You want to dance with her. Of course you do. Who wouldn't? Besides, it's your duty as a proper wedding guest in the twenty-first century. I step back, she offers herself to you. You step in and turn to me. I cover my surprise with a smile, made real by the Dutch courage I smell on your breath. I'm touched, even as I feel my soul rip as she goes back to Rhys. I invite you in, some smart remark dying on my lips. I catch the uncertainty as you move. Haven't you danced, before? No, you've danced, but you've always led. Why are you following now? You must know I go both ways.

You relax a bit in my arms, and I drift off and think of her. And her. I hate weddings. If you could see that photo of us, you'd laugh at how strait-laced I look. Or you'd just put it down to the camera technology of the time. I loved her. I still love her. I always will. But I hated that day. And I hate today.

But look at her! So beautiful, so happy, so in love. And it should be us. Except that I can't give that to her. And even if I could, I wouldn't.

Just as I won't give it to you. Even if I wanted to, which I don't.

You shift, and I know that I'm hurting you. For all your faults, you're a good man. But you love too much, and I can't bear that. You don't say it, but you love me. You forgave me for killing Lisa. Would you forgive me so easily if you knew about the children? I'm grateful that you don't say it. And right now, I'm so grateful to you for saving Gwen's marriage that I hate you enough to give me the edge I need.

You start to pull away, and I realise that the music has stopped. You mutter something about retcon as you turn to go.

I reach for you and pull you against me. And just in that moment, I think of you and ache through the comfort of it. I try to thank you. It dies, even as you tighten your arms around me, and as I kiss your temple and pull back, I think for just a second that I'm lucky in you. It's not the first time, but I wish it would be the last. I always do, but it's painful tonight because I also want that feeling to stick around.

I kiss you, lingering on the taste and feel and fact of you, and plan my escape.

I taste your acknowledgement and know that I'm seen.

I need so badly to be alone tonight.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
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